Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(23)

Nikolai’s body went rigid everywhere as he imagined that tongue on his own fingers…or in his mouth…or on his… A growl rumbled deep in his chest. He was going to kill Darvaak, plain and simple.

“Easy, Slayer,” he said. “It’s just an experiment, not a challenge. Look. No reaction.”

Nikolai met Elena’s deep blue eyes and loosened his grip on the dagger hilt. The Time Folder was right; her body hadn’t reacted to the blood.

“Now you, Itzov,” he said, returning to his chair.

Nikolai, never taking his eyes from Elena’s, pricked the end of his thumb and noticed she had clamped her lips shut. Was it him she rejected, or was it that she suspected, as he did, that it was his blood specifically that affected her? He held his thumb up, and she shook her head. Instead of forcing her mouth open like he wanted to, he simply repeated what he had done at the hotel and wiped his thumb across her bottom lip. There was more blood than last time, shimmering like macabre lip gloss. He held his breath, stunned by the revelation that he wanted his blood to affect her.

“Please, Elena,” Darvaak said. “I understand he repulses you, but we need to know.”

Repulsed her? The man was as good as dead. Truly immortal or not, Nikolai would find a way.

Her tongue darted out, and she covered her face. Her shoulders shuddered, and a sob escaped her. The girl in the tinted glasses scooted to the edge of her seat as if to rise, but Darvaak held up his hand. “Let’s have a look, and then it will all be over.”

Elena lowered her hands and then slowly opened her eyes—her piercing, crimson eyes—and all of Nikolai’s blood shot straight to his cock. God, fate was a sick, twisted bitch. Doomed. He was certainly and absolutely heading straight for the fiery pits of hell, he realized, as he lusted for his sworn enemy, the vampire.

After an almost unendurable few moments, the red faded, leaving her irises the wild, stormy blue of the ocean.

Nikolai could breathe again.

“It’s species related,” Darvaak said, appearing totally at ease. “Perhaps even more specific than that.”

Me. Let it only be me, Nikolai’s subconscious screamed to his horror. He sat back against the sofa cushions, trying to appear nonchalant. He deserved an Oscar for this performance.

“And just how did you come to be a vampire?” Darvaak asked. “This is very important, Elena.”

“I-I was born this way.”

“Her father was Gregor Arcos,” Nikolai said, hoping to put an end to the fifty questions game.

Both eyebrows shot up then. Darvaak uncrossed his legs and scooted to the edge of his seat. “Father as in your maker, or father as in insert tab A into slot B?”

Nikolai shot to his feet. “It’s not a f*cking joke.”

The Time Folder stood as well. “It damn well isn’t, Slayer. Sit down!” For a moment, he was sure Darvaak was going to zap him, but then he returned to his customary composed demeanor. “Please.”

Nikolai sat, but everything in him rebelled against it. He hated not being in control, and at that moment everything was out of his hands: Elena’s safety, the secrecy of their location, even his own life. All of it rested in the well-manicured hands of this smartass Time Folder. What a f*cking mess.

“Her father bred with a human.”

“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Darvaak stood and paced down the long glass wall overlooking the tops of pine trees outside the high rise. “I didn’t know human/vampire progeny were possible.”

“They’re not,” Nikolai said.

Darvaak stopped his pacing and stood behind Elena. “Yet, here she is. Proof yet again that nature…or the unnatural finds a way.” He strode to the woman who had set her sewing aside and took her hand. “Before we get to the issue of the cord binding the two of you, I’d like to introduce you to someone, Elena.” He escorted the tailor’s assistant to stand right in front of her. “This is Margarita Juarez. Margarita, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Elena Arcos.” The woman took off her tinted glasses. Stefan Darvaak stepped back and smiled. “And now, Elena, you can say you know one.”





Chapter Eight


Elena stared into Margarita’s blood-red eyes and nearly fainted. Dear God. All the awful things she’d said about vampires. “I’m…” Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry… I—”

Margarita held her hand up. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Our species has its bad apples, just like humans—because all vampires were humans first.” The woman’s red eyes bored into Elena. “You don’t have to choose violence. I don’t. Your father didn’t.”

Her breath caught. “You knew him?”

Sliding her glasses back on, the vampire shook her head. “No. I know of him. Everyone does. Things were better when he was alive.”

No kidding. Elena’s rib cage felt like it would shatter if she so much as took a breath. She had been very young when he died, but still, she missed him so much—even though what she remembered about him seemed distorted now that she knew what he had really been.

Margarita returned to her sewing while reality hovered just out of Elena’s reach. She stared down at the cord. She was turning into a vampire, and Nikolai couldn’t kill her. And that, coupled with the fact all vampires weren’t evil as he had portrayed them to be, certainly put a new twist on their relationship. Had everything he told her been a lie?